


Conquer the World Like Charlemagne

by ishie



Category: West Wing
Genre: 1000-5000 Words, 2010, Alternate Universe, Character of Color, Community: help_haiti, Gen, Genderswap, One Shot, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-29
Updated: 2010-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishie/pseuds/ishie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh sank into one of the tall-backed chairs around the table and jerked his chin at another. "Sit, Charlie. I promise I don't bite."</p><p>"I'm okay." Charlie shifted her weight again and clasped her hands behind her back. The nervous tremors were still snaking down her arms and she didn't want him to see her fingers shake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conquer the World Like Charlemagne

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allthingsholy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthingsholy/gifts).



> **Prompt: **genderswap; Jed, Charlie (non-romantic) [but Josh snuck in somehow too] Written for Allthingsholy for her donation to help_haiti. Title is a Leo quote from "A Proportional Response"
> 
> BB, again, if you aren't 100% satisfied you can claim a rewrite. Honestly I don't even know what this is. The genderswap is meant to be Always-a-girl!Charlie and Zoey is now Joey. IDK IDK, there might be more coming some day because I'm very taken with this idea and there is a lot of backstory that is not in evidence here.
> 
> My very grateful thanks to the folks who held my hand through the writing of this. You know who you are ♥

1999

Charlie stood at the head of the table and watched as people bustled past the glass doors separating her from the din of cable news channels and jangling phones. The manila folder in her hand was damp with nervous sweat. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, debating whether to switch hands or set the folder down on the table. Before she could make up her mind, one of the doors flew open and a tall, thin man threw himself inside. His hair was messy, his shirt-sleeves rolled to his elbows. A tie, clumsily knotted and pushed slightly off-center, made him look like he'd been sleeping at his desk.

"I want the Minority Whip on the phone within the hour, and get somebody to sit on Baker and Chen until they cough up a new draft," he was saying over his shoulder as he came into the room.

A woman bobbed along behind him, her straight blonde hair pulled back from her face. She poked him in the shoulder with her pen and pointed at Charlie. "Josh, this is the candidate they sent over from the OEOB. Charlene Young."

"Charlie, please," she corrected, sticking out a hand for Josh to shake. She grimaced as he clasped her sweaty hand in his but if he was repulsed, he hid it well. When he let go, Charlie fought the urge to wipe her palm against her skirt. She cast about for something to say and wound up simply thrusting the folder at him.

He accepted it with far more grace than she'd yet to display and a crooked smile that made her own lips curve up in response. At least, she thought they did. She was a little preoccupied with worrying that she was about to boot all over his shoes. Josh flipped open the folder and studied the papers inside.

"I'm Josh Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff," he said, sounding somewhat more distracted than he had when he'd walked in. "And this is Donnatella Moss, Girl Friday."

"I'm actually Senior Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff," Donna said. "He's no Cary Grant."

"Hey!"

"Well, you're not. Do you want lunch or are you just going to complain about not eating for the rest of the day?"

"I was thinking I'd just complain for the rest of the day."

"Josh."

"What are you getting?"

"Sandwiches."

"From the place with the stuff?"

"No, from the other one."

"Ah. Then I want chili. And a bottle of water."

Donna made a note on her pad, then smiled sweetly at Charlie as she left.

Josh sank into one of the tall-backed chairs around the table and jerked his chin at another. "Sit, Charlie. I promise I don't bite."

"I'm okay." Charlie shifted her weight again and clasped her hands behind her back. The nervous tremors were still snaking down her arms and she didn't want him to see her fingers shake. She'd been fine all the way over in her car, right up through the security checkpoints. There wasn't so much as a quiver while she was admitted to the Old Executive Office Building and up to the well-lit office where Ms DiLaguardia had muttered and stamped her file, then shooed her out with a new appointment in what she'd said was another part of the building.

Except it wasn't another part of the building. It was another building entirely. A big, famous, scary building she had virtually no business being inside.

"Suit yourself." He flipped through another couple of pages. "I'm supposed to vet you, apparently. Although why that's my job, I don't know. You'd think we'd have some kind of security around this place who already did that."

Stung, she wondered if this was his not exactly tactful way of telling her she wasn't going to get the job. "...Sir?"

"Charlie, seriously, sit. I have like nine hundred questions I'm supposed to ask. You're going to be a lot more comfortable in that chair."

Charlie sat. "What do you mean, 'vet me'? It's just a bicycle messenger job. I've already been through the background checks."

"I see that." Josh slapped the folder closed on the table and leaned forward, clasping his hands together between his legs. "Why do you want to work here?"

"I need a job," she said before her brain caught up to her mouth. "A-and the opportunity to work for the President, even as a messenger - even as a _page_. It's an honor, sir. Or, I mean, I would be honored if-"

"But why here? Why now?" Josh unclasped his hands and tapped a finger on the manila folder. "These transcripts.... You should be at an Ivy, not riding around the District. Hell, grades like this, you could practically _teach_."

"College isn't really an option for me right now." Charlie would have explained further but her throat was closing up, making it difficult to get even a few words out. "My little brother-"

"Dean, right?" He shrugged, looking almost apologetic. "It's in the file."

She nodded, swallowing hard against the rising pressure behind her eyes. She cleared her throat. "Does the file mention that my mom, um... She was killed in the line of duty five months ago. I'm all he's got left."

  
2009

"I can't find my fountain pen. Abbey!"

"Mrs Bartlet just went outside, sir."

Jed put a hand to his chest and peered over the top of his glasses to the woman standing in the doorway. "Charlie! I didn't hear you come in! When did you get here? I thought you and Joey weren't getting in until three."

She slipped out of her coat and folded it over one arm, raising her other hand to pull off her knitted hat and shake out her curly hair. "We just pulled up a few minutes ago. There wasn't as much traffic as we thought there would be."

"Well, don't just stand there all day. Come over here; let me get a look at you." Jed stood as she approached and tucked her into a hug as soon as she was close enough. When he pulled back, she slung her coat over the back of the nearest chair. As soon as her hand was free, Jed took it and squeezed, matching smiles lighting both their faces. "It looks like they've been feeding you pretty good down in Georgetown, there."

Charlie slanted a look at him. "I don't think that's the kind of thing you're supposed to say to a lady."

"Well, it does," he insisted. "You look healthy, vibrant! You look like you're getting three square meals a day the way you're supposed to. You always were too skinny, Charlie."

"If you say so, sir."

"I _do_." He squeezed her hand again then waved her into a chair near where he'd been sitting on the overstuffed couch with his book. "I don't suppose that son of mine's been taking care of the cooking while you're busy with school?"

"Joey?" she asked, eyes wide. "Cooking? I think your chili's the only thing he knows how to make that doesn't involve a microwave."

"Yeah. I don't know where I went wrong with that boy. Generations of Bartlet men have lived and died by their culinary reputation, I'll have you know."

"I do seem to recall that being mentioned once or twice."

Jed threw her a mock glare. She didn't bother to hide her smirk.

"Hmph, well. You weren't lucky enough to grow up with the benefit of our expertise, so I suppose you don't know what you're missing."

"You're probably right."

"You're sure you don't want to move up here? Manchester has a damn fine law school. And the pancake breakfasts over at the Knights of Columbus - oh, you wouldn't believe how good those pancakes are, Charlie."

"So I've heard, sir, but Joey and I are pretty happy where we are." Charlie took all the sting out of her words with another soft smile. While Jed watched, she craned her head to try to catch a glimpse of her husband out in the garden with his mother.

"What's all this 'sir' and 'Mrs Bartlet' business anyway?" Jed complained. "What did I tell you at the wedding?"

Charlie settled deeper into her armchair and drew her legs up, draping her arms over her knees. "You asked me to stop."

"I believe my exact words were to 'knock that crap off'. And yet here you are, 'sir'ing me still."

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And it's probably going to take me quite a while. _Sir_."

"Fair enough, I guess. You said Abbey and Joey went outside?"

"Yeah, they're looking at the roses, I think."

"Looking at the... Neither one of them has ever gardened a day in their life. If I know Abbey - and I know Abbey like a man who's been married for almost fifty years - she's lured my son out there for the sole purpose of complaining about me where she thinks I can't hear her."

Charlie tried to protest. "I'm sure that's not it!"

"It is too and we both know it. Well, no matter. You can help me open some of my fan mail. Can you believe I get fan mail?"

"No, sir, I can't believe you get fan mail."

"You know, I never did like you, Charlie. In fact, if God had granted us daughters instead of sons, I hope they would have turned out nothing like you at all."

She laughed, low and throaty. "I assure you: the feeling's mutual."

"Oh, just make yourself useful, will you? Hand me that gift box."

"This box?"

"Do you see any other boxes in the room?"

"I see lots of boxes. This is the only one that doesn't look like you tried to wrap it yourself though."

"What are you talking about? I did a pretty good job on the wrapping this year! I'm even thinking of going pro in my dotage. Open a little gift-wrapping shop down on the square, charge extra to those dirty Vermonters who come here to steal our fine dairy products and good-looking women."

"What makes you think anyone would pay extra?"

"What makes you think they wouldn't pay extra?"

"Well, it doesn't look like a professional wrapping job. In fact, it looks like you might have done these with your eyes closed."

"It's avant-garde, Charlie, you wouldn't understand. And you'd be surprised how much you can get out of one of those weekending Vermonters. I think it's the guilty conscience for all that dairy- and women-stealing they do."

She shook her head and rattled the box slightly. "Let's just open your fan mail."

"Oh, _now_ you admit that I get fan mail. I see how it is."

**Author's Note:**

> Started: 24 January 2010  
> Finished: 30 January 2010


End file.
